


i come when you call

by violethoure666



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Am I better at smut now?, Destiel - Freeform, Destiel is canon, I think this is season 7?, It doesn't matter there is NO plot only pining, M/M, Soft Boys, also this has gay sex, and i have fEELINGS, and i love them and their love forever, and i was better at smut in 2012, can you tell I was so in love when I wrote this?, honestly i think the answer is NO, i dont even know, i was twenty one once, nostaliga, repost from 2012, this is like nine years old and it is so blatantly ME it kind of hurts, this is old, this is soft and they love each other a lot, what is even happening im sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-07
Updated: 2020-11-07
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:01:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27426130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/violethoure666/pseuds/violethoure666
Summary: All in all, it’s very tiresome and very unfortunate, loving a human.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 3
Kudos: 51





	i come when you call

**Author's Note:**

> This is an old SPN fic i pulled off livejournal in honor of Destiel being made canon like fifteen years fucking later lmao. I wrote this when I was 21, in love, freshly dropped out of college and manic as HECK. I would LOVE to hear what you think about my style then vs now. This was a trip to find and read. Never lose hope, shippers. 
> 
> Much love.

It doesn’t matter what he is doing, when Dean calls, he goes to him.

Heaven is at war; he is single-handedly leading an army of rebel angels against his more powerful and vengeful brother. His men are dying, the imprint of wings etched into the walls and the floor around them.

It reminds him of the shadows left by humans in Hiroshima and Nagasaki, back in the 1940s. He remembers watching the Americans bomb Japan; it wasn’t that long ago even by Human standards, and certainly not to Castiel.

Angels live a very long time.

But still, it feels like a lifetime ago now, when his faith had been blind and all-knowing, and he had stood by idly as the world began to destroy itself, confident that it was part of some bigger plan.

He knows better now.

Still, when Dean calls, he goes to him. It’s not something that is within his control, at least not at first. He isn’t used to the feeling. He understands love and devotion; he loved, and still loves, his Father. But this is different because it isn’t an obligation; it’s a need. A want. It’s something selfish, something stupid and terribly, terribly human.

But all Dean knows is human, and every time Cas arrives, that pained look in his eyes that he fears will betray his thoughts, reflect his own disgust at his lack of self-control, Dean doesn’t seem to notice. He sighs with relief, says Cas’ name, and then usually proceeds to tell him what he needs from him now.

If it wasn’t for the other times, far and few between, the times Dean calls Cas when he’s alone, half asleep or lost in fear, Cas would smite him for his arrogance. If it were anybody else, any other human who dared to act like Castiel, _an Angel of the Lord_ , owed him something, anything-- Cas wouldn’t think twice. It’s an insult.

But he wants to give Dean everything, would die a thousand more times to protect him from being hurt.

All in all, it’s very tiresome and very unfortunate, loving a human.

Cas doesn’t know much about sex, not in human terms, not in the form of skin and sticky fingers and milky mouths, filled with too hot air that hitches in your chest, but he knows something is missing. He wants…. _something._

Intimacy, maybe. Secrets whispered for only him to hear, closeness, warmth.

When Sam and Dean go their separate ways, after Sam kills Lillith, Castiel is shocked at how perfect being alone with Dean is. How full he feels just sitting in the front seat of that stupid car. Cas never had use for driving. Or bathing, eating, sleeping, any of those _human_ things. He has always found them frustrating, wondered how people dealt with being so slow, so caught up in emotions and feelings.

But when Dean says, “I mean, I’ve had more fun with you in the last twenty four hours than I have with Sam in years,” smiling against the background of power ballads, an empty road ahead of them, Cas thinks he gets it.

For all his anger, for all his pride and arrogance, there is something else in Dean. Cas has come to realize that this— _complexity—_ is a part of the human condition. Angels aren’t weighed down by guilt, they’re righteous in a way that only those who _know_ that they have God’s love, and His favor, can be. No fear of consequence, confident that what they do is right, no matter who is in their way. Castiel would be lying if he said he wasn’t the same way, or at least, he always had been.

Humans are different. Their emotions, connections and empathy; it’s all very far from divine right.

But this is what keeps Castiel coming back, keeps him from beating Dean into a bloody lump when he snaps, becomes demanding, forgetful. Cas has anger inside of him that burns white hot, but he is aware now of _why_ Dean is like this. His words and actions don’t reflect the soul inside as clearly as an Angels would. There is such love, such fear there, Cas can hardly stand it.

One night somewhere outside of Elk Creek, Nebraska, after Sam and Dean begin hunting again together, but before Dean has really forgiven Sam, Dean calls for Cas.

Cas can hear that he is alone, the slight shake in his voice, less demanding than he’s used to, more raw.

“Cas, can you hear me? I-I’m sorry, this isn’t exactly important, I just,” his voice trails off, heavy with the weight of his words.

It hurts Castiel’s heart.

There’s a flutter of wings that rustle the open book on the table, and then Cas is standing by the window of the motel. Sam and Dean had separate rooms for the night, tired of weighing their words and trying to pretend like everything is fine. Tired of fighting.

“I’m here.” Cas says, “What do you need this time?”

Dean’s face is almost hurt, and Cas is admittedly pleased at the chance to get a small jab in at Dean, to make him realize how harsh he usually is, even if his timing is bad.

This seems to break Dean a little, his eyes wide and wet and far too telling for him to pull of that stiff stance, that hard jawed look, and Castiel regrets the words.

“Cas, I…I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have called you for this, there’s nothing I need I just—” he doesn’t finish his sentence.

_Just don’t want to be alone,_ Cas thinks but doesn’t say.

Dean stands to pace, hands coming up to his hair, hisses a breath in through his nose.

“It’s alright, Dean,” Cas says, “you’re my friend, you can always call me if you need to talk.”

Dean doesn’t talk though, not at first. He just walks over to the window and stares in silence for a few minutes.

Finally he says, “I want to trust him, Cas. I _want_ to, believe me, but I don’t think that’s enough.”

Cas walks over behind Dean, who has his hands splayed across the window, arm muscles tight and rippling as they support the weight of his body.

And there it is again, that _itch_ , that _want._ Cas reaches out his hand and puts it on Dean’s arm, and his lips part a little with the surprise because, oh it’s so simple, that’s what he’s wanted all this time: to touch Dean.

He feels frozen in his thoughts, grounded to reality by his hand spread out against Dean’s skin, warm and dusted with freckles. He is both suddenly aware that he has found that missing something, and terrified for when he has to let Dean go. He knows nothing of physical etiquette; he has no idea if this is okay.

Dean is tense, muscles tight across his back and arms, stiff under his plain shirt. He turns around to face Cas, breaking the contact but stepping closer and says, “I’m sorry Cas, for everything. You’ve done so much for me and I know I don’t deserve it.”

Castiel is confused. Does Dean really believe that? That he isn’t worthy of the things Castiel has done for him? He has never acted like it before. But if it were anyone else Cas would agree. He raised Dean from the pit of hell, died for him, rebelled for him, betrayed his family and his Father for him, but he does think Dean is worth it. He knows it.

“I would do it again.” Cas says, his voice rougher than he thought it would be. Dean’s mouth is tight, and he nods, large eyes speaking the simple words his mouth can’t.

Soon after that, Cas begins to realize that there are two Deans.

There is work Dean, Dean the hunter, who will cut through every piece of red tape in this universe and beyond to do what needs to be done. This Dean is unforgiving, callous, arrogant, and above all else self-deprecating; blurring the line between being courageous and being suicidal.

There is another Dean though, one that he assumes Sam and Bobby must know, must see sometimes.

It’s this Dean that calls to Castiel when he is alone, a Dean who listens, who has hopes and wants beyond hunting.

It’s another dreary motel, and since his revelation about Sam’s soullessness a few weeks back, and the boys had agreed to take different rooms when they could. So Dean is alone and maybe a little drunk, and he doesn’t mean to call for Cas, not really. He isn’t praying as much as whispering, trying to make sense of things, speaking to Cas in the absence of God.

But Cas hears him, he always does, and he arrives a moment before he makes himself visible, feels guilty and voyeuristic but there is something so raw about Dean in these moments he has to take what he can get. When he appears, Dean looks surprised, but not surprised enough.

“I know,” Cas says, sitting down on the edge of the motel bed. Dean is pacing again, nervous energy trembling up through him. Castiel holds out his hand and Dean looks confused for a moment, then he swallows, understanding shadowing his face and reaches his hand out to take Castiel’s. He takes Deans hand in both of his, looking up at Dean’s eyes with questions overwhelming his own.

Dean is still, his breathing deliberate.

Cas says, “I find touching to be, therapeutic. It’s not something Angels do, but somehow it makes things better, down here, like this.”

Dean’s heart is beating faster; Castiel can feel the blood under his skin, pulsing in time with the muscle in his chest. His eyes flash, and Cas knows the look. It’s one of decision, of obligation, his no-turning-back-now look.

Dean moves his hand to thread their fingers together. He sits next to Cas, perched on the bed with his feet on the floor, and moves his other hand up to his shoulder, running it down the fabric of his coat.

“Who have you been touching?” Dean asks.

“You,” Cas says, and it’s so plain and so true that he can almost see Deans heart as he remembers how new this is to him, how raw and untouched his human form still is. As if it’s painful for him to think about Cas longing to be touched, but not knowing how to ask or even understanding why.

“It’s important for humans” Dean says, “touching.”

Deans fingers ghost up Cas’ shoulder to the bare skin of his neck, he drags the calloused tips along the skin of his collarbone and up behind his ear, pushing them into his hair. Cas feels his heart pounding, feels the blood pumping faster through his body, making his skin flush and warm, coiling in a tight pit in his groin. His breath catches a little as Dean uses both his hands to push off his trench coat. His shirt is starched and white, his thin tie coming lose around his neck.

“Contact, connection,” Dean continues, “it’s necessary.”

The thought unsettles him, “So, you do this often then?”

Dean smiles easily, bringing his thumb up to Cas’ ear and running it along the edge, dusted with peach fuzz only visible up close.

“Well it’s not often I get handsy with Angels, no,” Dean says, “but humans are empty on their own Cas, I’m sure you can see that by now.”

Cas watches as Dean rises from his place in front of him, never breaking contact completely, and moves to sit behind him.

“Stay where you are, I want to show you something.”

Cas doesn’t want to be anywhere else, but he’s also having trouble sitting still. His whole body feels electric and alive. Dean settles close behind him, and Cas brings his knees together so that Dean can put his legs on either side of his body, pushing himself forward so that his feet fall against Cas’ calves.

Dean spreads his hands out along Cas’ shoulders and begins to knead the skin, the tendons and muscles underneath. It’s incredibly pleasant and Cas’ mouth opens to let a small moan escape as Dean digs his fingers into the knots of his back. He tries to focus on his breathing, but all he can think about is his erection, how it’s tenting up through the front of his pants. He’s sure Dean has noticed, in the same way he’s sure he _wants_ Dean to notice.

Dean tugs Cas’ shirt out from where it’s tucked into his pants and Cas focuses his attention back on the touching; Dean’s hands find bare skin, slipping up under his shirt. Cas undoes the first few buttons and Dean raises it over his head, pulling it off so that he’s shirtless, facing away from Dean but pressed against him. Dean takes off his shirt too and presses his skin flush against Cas’ back.

“You know right when a baby is born, before they even take it away to clean it up, they put it on the mom’s chest, skin to skin. It sets the bond, roots the baby to reality, shows them that they’re not alone, that it’s going to be okay.” Dean says and Cas shivers.

Dean runs his hands down Cas’ wiry arms, smaller than his own even though they are much more powerful.

Cas leans back, his breath uneven. His head rests against Dean’s collarbone as his hands come up around him, holding him and gently tracing patterns on his chest, his stomach. The pad of Dean’s thumb brushes across Cas’ nipple and he twitches, jerks forward a bit in Deans arms and the reaction is so basic and perfect that Dean loses himself for a moment, threading his fingers through Cas’ hair roughly and tilting his face up so that its close to his own. He can feel the Angel’s breath, watches his dark eyes flutter shut as he moves his hand down to the front of his pants, pressing against the bulge there.

Dean breathes in sharply, surprised when Cas closes the gap between faces, but Cas can’t help it, he knows what he wants now more clearly than he has ever before here on Earth. He knows what kissing is, but he’s never seen the appeal in it much before, thought it might be gross in practice, but he was so, _so_ wrong.

He crushes his mouth against Deans, painfully at first, all sharp teeth and stubble.

Dean is still behind him, holding him close and he moves lips deliberately, slowly, opening up for Cas gradually and, Dean will give him this, he’s a quick learner.

Dean rubs the front of Cas’ pants harder, pressing the rough material against the hard heat there.

“Do you touch yourself?” Dean asks, and it’s a testament to Cas’ unearthliness that he doesn’t see this as dirty talk, not yet anyhow. He sees it as raw honesty, which he can understand much better than the convoluted half-truths that humans are so fond of.

He nods his head, “Yes— sometimes, I mean, I have before—I had to, it, it hurt.”

Dean presses closer to Cas, pulling him up slightly into his lap, so that one of Deans legs is between Cas’ legs, his own dick pressed against the back of Cas’ hip, just above his ass.

“What happened?” Dean asks him, grinding against him slowly and with the same rhythm he uses to rub Cas’ crotch, his breath hot against his ear.

“When I was human, I started sleeping and then, when I would wake up it was already hard,”

“What was hard, your cock?”

“My cock,” Cas repeats, and feels Dean shiver.

“Go on.”

Dean’s hands fumble with the button of Cas’ pants and the angel can feel his human heart pounding, feels a drop in his stomach like he missed a step.

“It happened almost on its own one day, I wasn’t awake but I wasn’t asleep. I didn’t realize what I was doing… until I did.”

Dean tugs Cas’ pants and he lifts up enough to let Dean pull them down. He kicks them off, settling in Deans lap in only plain white briefs and matching socks.

“It felt so good, better than anything had felt until,” Cas says as he swallows, Dean’s hand creeping back over his _cock_ , through the fabric of his briefs which have a wet spot on the front.

“Until now?” Dean asks and Cas nods, chest rising and falling like he’s been running. 

Castiel starts to spread his legs, rising up against dean’s hand, his thighs tight with the tension.

“And after that, did you do it again?” Dean asks.

Cas nods his head, “I tried but it wasn’t the same, I didn’t know what made it so good before, but now I- ahh” Cas is cut off as Dean’s hand slips under his briefs impatiently, wrapping around his thick cock and gently running his thumb along the slit.

Dean breaths hot against Cas’ ear, “I got you, it’s okay. Tell me Cas, what’s different now?”

“You,” Cas says, moaning as he lets go of a breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

“You like it when I touch you? Feels like did in your naughty little dreams?”

“Yes.” Cas breathes out the word.

“Was I in your dream, Cas?”

Castiel can only nod, words failing him; coming out instead as quick puffs of air and Dean starts talking again.

“You know, I’ve been touching myself for a long time,” he says, and Cas’ body reacts to the statement, straining closer.

“Nothing has made me harder than thinking about you, than touching you, this is…” He looks far away, pupils blown with lust and something that looks like nostalgia, smells like it too.

Dean snaps his eyes back to Cas, kisses him quickly pulling away and out from under him. Cas raises his eyes, questions flooding his mind, already foggy with lust. Did he do something wrong?But then dean is in front of him, quicker than Cas could have moved, his muscles tight and his mind slow.

“I want to taste you, I’ve thought about tasting you for so long,” Dean says, lowering his face down until his mouth is level with Cas’ dick. The skin on his cock is pulled tight, vein thick along the underside. It’s so very human, Cas is overwhelmed by how much bigger it’s gotten, he didn’t even realize it could reach this size.

Dean looks back at Cas and then lowers his mouth onto the too hot skin, licking up the shaft to the head, and flicking his tongue along the slit.

Cas bucks forward, his hips rising up, begging Dean for more.

Dean uses both his hands to pin Cas down, and although they both know if he wanted to, Castiel could have Dean across the room in a minute, the feel of his warm hand pressing hard against his hips is enough to still him, keep him grounded in this overwhelming human form.

It is not without effort. As Dean lowers his mouth onto the head of Cas’ cock, he is struck by how magnificent Dean looks, his lips parted to stretch around the shaft, his hand coming up and meeting his lips when he can’t fit any more into his mouth.

He sucks slowly, pulling almost off and then back down, repeating this.

He finds a rhythm but it’s agonizingly slow.

“Cas,” he says, pulling up so his tongue flicks against the slit of his cock, “does that feel good?”

“Yes,” Cas says, pushing against Dean’s hands involuntarily.

“You’re holding on so tight Cas,” Dean whispers, holding his stare. “Let go a little, show me how you like it.”

“What do you mean?” Cas asks. Dean smiles and lowers himself back onto Cas. He takes one hand from his hip and laces his fingers with Castiel’s, bringing the hand up to the back of his head. He starts pushing slowly, inching further down onto Cas’ shaft. He understands now.

He starts pushing his head faster, trying to maintain enough control not to hurt Dean, but Dean doesn’t seem to be hurting at all. He’s moved his hand from Castiel’s and down onto his own cock, which he’s jerking in time with Cas’ motions. His other hand is still on his hip, holding Cas back, nails digging softly into his skin.

He pushes further, hands tangled in Deans hair until he hears Dean gag, he stops the pressure, but Dean doesn’t let up, he keeps Cas pressing against the back of his throat, and find his rhythm again quickly.

He gags again, his throat tightening around Cas’ cock in a way that makes his head spin. Now that he knows it’s not hurting Dean, the sound is strangely erotic. Cas loves the idea that Dean is filled up with him, that he _wants_ to be, that even if it might be uncomfortable to his human form, he wants to do it because he knows how good it makes Cas feel.

Cas can’t last much longer, the heat inside of him is building up.

“Dean,” he says, maybe as a warning and maybe because it’s all he can think about. _Dean_.

Dean with his too-hot little mouth everywhere all at once.

Dean isn’t relenting; he brings his own hand off his dick and gently presses his finger against Cas’ puckered little hole. He wasn’t expecting this, hadn’t even thought about it and the shock of the sensation sends him over the edge. He grabs Deans hair, fucking into his mouth as Dean’s hands come up to steady both his hips.

“Oh Dean, ah--,” Castiel’s breath gets caught in his throat, choking him enough that he sees the stars behind his eyes, feels them in his body, and comes crashing back with a gasp.

He can feel his own heat pooling inside Deans mouth, sees a bit drip out of the corner, but Dean swallows most of it, sucking until there’s nothing left inside him, and licking up everything left over.

It’s hard to move, he’s trembling a little bit when he opens his eyes to look at Dean, who has a smug look on his face, of all things.

He’s still jerking himself, looking at Cas in the aftermath of his orgasm.

“Your turn,” Cas says.

Dean laughs a bit, “You don’t have to Cas, shh, it’s okay, lie still.”

Dean comes up into the bed as Cas pushes himself into a laying position.

“No, it’s your turn” Cas says, this is important.

Dean looks at him seriously, “Anything you want, just tell me.”

“I want you to show me how you do it, up close.”

Dean scoots up closer to Cas, who says, “No, closer Dean.”

His blue eyes have a spark in them, and Dean doesn’t waste time climbing up onto Cas and straddling his chest. Cas grabs Dean’s thighs, pulling him close enough that Dean can feel his breath against his straining cock, props himself up enough to be looking at Dean’s dick straight on.

“Now show me,” he says.

Dean is flushed, maybe with lust and probably with a little bit of humiliation, being put on display right in front of Cas but he doesn’t waste time, and Cas knows that he’s probably already close.

He fists his cock and pumps it quickly, jerking his wrist when he reaches the sensitive head. His cock is beautiful, yes, but it’s Dean’s face that has Cas breathing quickly already. His face is tense, eyes shut tight as he nibbles at his bottom lip.

“Look at me,” Cas says.

Dean looks at Cas just as he flicks his tongue out to graze the head.

“Oh fuck” Dean says, bucking his hips, pressing his hands against the wall behind Cas. Cas bring his hands up to Dean’s ass, pulling him closer still, so he can slip his mouth onto Dean in time to taste him.

Still, he’s surprised when it comes, and he doesn’t have Dean’s gracefulness.

Dean whimpers as he unloads into Cas’ willing mouth, shooting ribbons of earthy, salty cum towards the back of his throat.

Cas lets it fill his mouth, the taste isn’t pleasant exactly, but it’s erotic. He swallows what doesn’t dribble onto his chin.

Dean surprises him by leaning in and licking up the mess left, then kissing Cas, lowering himself onto him gently, his body weak and heavy.

He moves to cradle Cas, pulling him against his body, so that his back is flush against Dean’s stomach, still rising and falling too quickly.

Dean nuzzles into Castiel’s neck, and he can feel him smiling there.

“Thank you,” Cas says, “I don’t think there is anyone else I could do that with.”

Cas thinks he gets it now, the difference between saying dirty things and saying things that are just true.

Dean answers him by kissing his ear, whispering, “My Angel,” and holding him close.

Castiel doesn’t sleep, of course, but he can tell when Dean does. His breathing slows, heartbeat steady in his chest. His hold on Cas never lessens, but even if he wasn’t being held tightly, and even though there’s a war in heaven and prayers floating through his head, there’s nowhere else that Castiel would rather be.

**Author's Note:**

> come find me on twitter where i live @violethoure666 and where you can find a link to my NEW POETRY BOOK which is on sale for 2.99 and has fourteen poems and thirty one illustrations, and which has spent it's first week in the top 50 for contemporary poetry and women's poetry on the kindle best seller list, including two full days at number 12! AH! <3


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